


i need you to be sorry

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brief Mention of Blood, F/M, Fem! Harry, Harry Potter Has Issues, Hurt/Comfort, and Tom is not a weird ass snake man, basically all you have to know is Harry is living with Tom in his big ass mansion, its nothing too graphic though don’t worry, it’s for plot reasons but obviously you don’t know that yet, it’s very very brief but please be careful if that kind of thing bothers you my darlings, somewhat unconsensually at first but by now they’re kind of a bit closer, sorry I don’t make the rules lol, this is a scene from a WIP but I think it works as a stand-alone right??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 05:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20058865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I am sorry.” She leaned back and opened her eyes to look at his face, at the raw sincerity displayed there, and shook her head slightly.“Are you?”She saw the carefully concealed devastation in his eyes, and attempted to clarify.“I mean, are you sorry because you regret killing them, or are you sorry because it caused me pain?”“I don’t see why there is a difference.”





	i need you to be sorry

**Author's Note:**

> This is a scene from a WIP that I’ve had in my head for a while, and I just posted it because really I want some feedback and to see where I can improve my writing and characterisation. (also if you see any mistakes please don’t hesitate to point them out to me, I won’t find it annoying I promise <3 ) Brief backstory is: Harry is living with Tom Riddle and to begin with she hated him but by this point they have formed a tentative relationship and Tom has realised he wants to begin ‘courting her’ (yes I know, he was born in the 1920s so he talks like that)

Tom woke as a tremor of magic shivered through the house. He was immediately on his feet, tracking towards where the magic originated. He easily recognised it, for a kernel of it had originally belonged to him. 

Tom reached the door of the room he had began to think of as Harry’s, and stilled. He could hear screams escaping the silencing charm imbued in the wood. Harry’s screams. He blasted the door open, ready to defend her from whatever dared harm her, and was immediately thrown backwards by a wave of raw magic.

He quickly helped himself to his feet and approached the threshold again, vigilance slowing his steps down to a whisper along the hardwood floor. 

The room was a mess. Shards of glass from the shattered window and fractured furniture swirled around the room, frequently embedding themselves into things, and at the centre of it was Harry, screaming and thrashing and bleeding. 

Her eyes were closed. Between screams, pieces of names slipped past her lips, haunted and sorrowful expressions painting themselves over her anguished features.

Tom ventured into the epicentre of the chaos, uncaring of the debris tearing into his sleeping robes, and gripped Harry by the arms, shaking her violently. He was yelling her name, but even he could not hear himself over the cacophony of noise filling the room. The wind howled through the broken window and pieces of glass smashed off the walls, and above it all, the despairing screams grew louder and louder and-

Harry’s eyes opened and, without even grasping her wand, she sat up and flung a hand out, pinning Tom to the wall, right beside the broken window. He could feel the vicious wind rushing in beside him and, despite his fierce attack against the magic binding him, he was unable to escape.

Her eyes were glowing red, her arm steady as she held him there, without even touching him. Every shard of glass was suspended in the air for a few seconds, completely still, and Tom held his breath.

Harry’s arm dropped abruptly. She slumped as everything, including Tom himself, fell to the floor. Her eyes, reverted back to their natural green, were downcast, and seemingly empty.

The room was silent apart from the drops of Harry’s blood running down the mattress and hitting the floor.

Tom quickly composed himself. He stood up, wincing at the ache in his back, and began moving towards her in what he hoped was an unthreatening manner. 

Tom ran his eyes over Harry. The young girl was unresponsive after releasing him from the hold of her magic, and did not react when he moved to sit behind her on the bed, shifting the pillows so he could sit upright against the headboard.  
“You had a nightmare.” He stated. He almost exhaled in relief as she finally responded, turning her head towards him.  
“No,” a sardonic smile played along her lips briefly, and Tom gaze flicked down involuntarily, before he berated himself for getting distracted. 

“I was having a simply lovely dream, if you must know.” Tom refrained from rolling his eyes, before looping his arms around her torso and tugging her back towards his chest. She allowed herself to be manipulated, until she was sat between Tom’s legs, her own legs stretched out in front of her. 

He gently shifted her hair to her other shoulder, and then leaned down to look over at her injuries.  
“What are you doing?” Harry murmured,  
“Healing you.”  
“You don’t have a wand.” This time, Tom allowed himself to roll his eyes, since she couldn’t see him anyway, and then retrieved her wand from underneath her pillow where he knew it would be hidden.

“That’s my wand.”  
“Very perceptive, Harry. I cannot possibly understand how you haven’t defeated me yet.” She huffed, annoyed, and Tom adjusted his approach. “We have brother wands, you see?” He gestured the wand and a few sparks flew out of it.  
“This wand will obey me as well as my own, and I’m sure if you managed to steal my wand, it would obey you too, if begrudgingly.”  
“Too good to be used by non-slytherin scum like me, I’m sure.” Tom managed to hide his smile, and cast a few wordless healing charms, running his wand along her body more than was perhaps strictly necessary, and he heard Harry’s breath hitch. 

“What was the dream about?” He asked softly, partly to distract himself from the feel of her soft skin touching his own because really, if he thought about it too much things would become very awkward, given the position they were in. Tom intended to court her, but he could tell that now would not be the right time by any means. 

“It was about Cedric.” Tom stilled, motionless as the girl in his arms slumped slightly. “It was about Cedric. And Sirius. And… the cupboard.” Her voice grew quieter until Tom could barely hear her, and indeed, questioned whether he had heard correctly.  
“A cupboard?”

“Well, I stay with the muggles - the relatives of my mother, my aunt and uncle, and their child. They… didn’t like me very much. Don’t like me. They regard magic as…” Harry trailed off, and Tom wordlessly urged her on, a bud of anger starting to take root in the bottom of his stomach.

“They called me a freak. I lived in the cupboard under the stairs and I cooked their food and cleaned their house and wore Dudley’s old clothes. They only moved me into a room when my Hogwarts letter was addressed to the cupboard under the stairs, because they thought we were being watched. They put me in Dudley’s second room, full of toys that he had broken and wouldn’t throw away. 

“I hated them.” And Tom was inclined to agree. She stated it with such a conviction Tom had never heard her use, and he knew they must be truly evil to make a girl as kind and inherently good as Harry turn to hatred. 

“They hated me, and mistreated me, and,” she choked on a sob, “hurt me. And then I finally found someone who was kind to me. My godfather, an adult who could care for me, and love me,” she turned to look Tom in the face, for the first time, “and he was killed.”

Tom lifted her, turned her so she was sat on his lap, facing him. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, and as she closed her eyes a tear escaped. He brushed it away with his thumb, and leaned forward to press his forehead to hers.

“I am sorry.” She leaned back and opened her eyes again to look at his face, at the raw sincerity displayed there, and shook her head slightly.

“Are you?” 

She saw the carefully concealed devastation in his eyes, that he had tried to open himself up to her and she rejected him, and attempted to clarify.  
“I mean, are you sorry because you regret killing them, or are you sorry because it caused me pain?”

“I don’t see why there is a difference.” Tom said deliberately, his brow furrowing, and Harry sighed.

“Tom, I want you to-“ she let out an exasperated sigh, “I need you to care because you shouldn’t have killed them. Because they were innocent.” He exhaled slowly, before leaning forwards and pressing their foreheads together again.

“I- I don’t understand.” Harry closed her eyes, and when she opened them again they were clear and steady, assuring Tom’s vulnerable gaze.

“You don’t need to understand, for now. I just need you to promise me something.” At his nod, she continued. “I need you to promise me that you won’t kill again.” Tom opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she didn’t let him refuse, “Tom, promise me you won’t kill anyone for no reason. I understand that you might have to kill dissenting death eaters, or- or people who are trying to kill you, but you don’t have to kill innocent people. Not people who haven’t done anything wrong. Promise me you won’t, Tom, please.” 

Tom gazed into her eyes, now glassy with unshed tears, and found nothing but sincerity, and desperation in her words. Eventually, Tom nodded, and Harry closed her eyes, the moonlight piercing through the dark room. The rays reflected on the tear tracks running down her cheeks and illuminating them. Tom thought they made her appear almost angelic.

She leaned forwards and pressed her lips to Tom’s. She kissed him. It was chaste, and brief, and as she pulled back Tom could feel tears on his own cheeks. He could not tell who had shed them, but he found that he didn’t care. 

Harry shifted in his arms so her back was pressed against his front, and she was facing the open window again. Together, they watched as the sun began to rise, and Tom found himself quietly, tentatively, beginning to hope.


End file.
